And when Doña Marta read it…
His hands trembled for the first time in years.
Doña Marta did not release the letter immediately.
She held it between her stiff fingers, as if the paper weighed more than it should… as if it contained something dangerous.
Rebecca—sorry, Rebeca—was the first to speak:
—What are you saying, Mom?
Zara took another step closer, impatiently:
—Is it for us?
But Doña Marta did not answer.
He reread the last line.
Then again.
And a third one.
Until, finally, he looked up.
And in his gaze… there was something his daughters had never seen in him before.
Insecurity.
“It’s… an invitation,” he said, choosing each word carefully. “From Don Alejandro Cortés.”
Zara smiled immediately.
—I knew he was going to notice me.
Rebecca said nothing, but straightened her back.
—When is it due?
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